


The White Duke

by robinlikeitshot



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: !!!, Angst, Cassandra Cain is Batgirl, Coming back from the dead, Damian Wayne is Nightwing, Dick is a lil baby, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Jason Todd is Robin, Joker Junior - Freeform, Look At All That Angst, Murder, Reverse Robins, Role Reversal, Tim Drake is Red Hood, Tim Drake-centric, basically under the red hood but tim and also different, idk how to tag, or not idk, zombie boy! tim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25854874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinlikeitshot/pseuds/robinlikeitshot
Summary: The official reports say it was the Joker, that in a last fit of hysterical madness, burned down the warehouse with his broken son and broken wife and him laughing as the flames rose. Then he died too. And Batman resuscitated him.That left the question: who took the blame? The Joker, for killing hundreds of people, him included? Batman, for never truly stopping him? Damian, for never training him to face the madman?In the end, Tim takes the blame himself.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> catch me posting another piece that's only been written up to the second chapter and then promptly forgotten about a year ago*  
> so this fic.. i really liked it? but i kinda lost interest in it a while back and dropped it, but I'm posting it now in the hopes that it'll inspire me to take it up again  
> Enjoy:)

Tim is the one that burned it down. 

The official reports say it was the Joker, that in a last fit of hysterical madness, burned down the warehouse with his broken son and broken wife and him laughing as the flames rose. Then he died too. And Batman resuscitated him.

That's the part that really  _ irks _ Tim. He'd ended JJ's miserable childhood, Harley's fanatic obsession and Joker's insanity with one fell swoop, just a single match that lit an inferno-

_ ['Put that in the fireplace, there you go JJ!' the man proclaimed as he'd held a burning match underneath Junior’s palm till it stopped hurting, then tossing it away with a mad cackle. The pain hadn't been much, comparatively, but there was something about the warm glow of the flame that had enraptured him. It was so unlike the rest of the shinysharp tools that the Joker liked to use, and that focus gave him a second. Only a second, but a second was all that Tim Drake needed to push through the brainwashing, the electricity, the ‘please, please just stop’ and ‘weak Robin, JJ is stronger,’ to snatch the match up and set the whole goddamn house on fire.] _

He's read the official autopsy reports, hacked into the bat computer and read the non-official ones too. He knows for sure that Bruce knew what he did, that it wasn't the Joker who started the fire. Tim had almost gone green watching the tape of Batman interrogating a cackling Joker, bleeding mouth stretching impossibly wide as he told him that Joker Junior had set the warehouse on fire. ( _ Guess he'd had it in him after all! Whadda ya say, Batsy? Like father like son, eh?) _

Joker was locked up tight in Arkham, its security a detail Batman had personally seen to, where he still resided to present day. However, rumor had it that Harley was up and running again, something about plant magic and the cycle of life. He didn't begrudge her that; she didn't deserve his ire. She had been part of the trauma that led to his death, but his nightmares were her nightmares, and she'd been just as much of a prisoner as he was.

That left the question: who took the blame? The Joker, for killing hundreds of people, him included? Batman, for never truly stopping him? Damian, for never training him to face the madman?

In the end, Tim takes the blame himself. He does what he would have with any case: looks at the facts, searches for patterns, and deduces a conclusion. And the conclusion was that he'd placed too much trust in Bruce. He'd trusted him to lock villains up in Arkham, ignoring that they broke out almost every other month. He'd trusted Batman's analysis that he was ready to fight by himself, that a fourteen-year-old with two years of training was prepared to go head to head with Gotham's underbelly. He'd trusted Bruce to come  _ save  _ him. And because of that misplaced trust, Tim was dead. Coming back was even worse. Then finding out that not only had his (not) father not killed the Joker (because Tim understands, he  _ understands _ ) but rescued him as well? That beat Lazarus levels of angry. Ra's had lost almost forty ninjas after he'd found out(been shown,  _ manipulated _ ).

Continued hypothesis revealed that Gotham needed someone who was willing to actually clean up her streets, to scrub at the dirt till it was gone, not just slap on a new coat of paint every couple of years. Batman… helped. He did, but it wasn’t enough, it  _ couldn’t _ be enough. Bruce had dug himself a hole with the Bat, and once the city finally claimed him, that hole would be empty, leaving place for empires to build. 

The city needed someone who wasn't afraid to have darker morals, to be able to do what was  _ right _ , what was needed. Tim could become that someone. Gotham itched in his skin, pink and fresh to replace the charred black that had been her final farewell. He knew he'd have to go back. He knew that Bruce couldn't avenge him. He’d just do it himself.

xxx

In all honesty, he’s not that mad. Sure it hurts, hurts to know that it had barely been a year before the newspaper headlines blew up with the news of a new Wayne. Hurts that Damian hadn’t shown up to his funeral, but managed to stop by Gotham for his little brother’s birthday. 

He pushes through it, remembering the reason  _ he _ took the Robin mantle. Batman needed a Robin, a mantra he had lived by, had dedicated every second of his short, pathetic life to. Even now, Tim knew that it wasn’t wrong.

The next time Ra’s summons him after a ninja conveniently dropped a folder of newspaper clippings outside his door, Tim is duly wary. 

“I assumed you would have had more of a... reaction, Timothy,” the man says once they’ve completed their daily ritual of staring at each other for an uncomfortably long period of time and Tim has sat down. “After all, that boy is wearing  _ your _ colors.”

Tim snorts, the bright robin red and green the new Robin had chosen almost imprinted in his mind from how long he had stared at it. 

“My colors are the red of the blood the Joker painted my lips, the green he dyed my hair, and the black,” - He pauses, smiles so the scars marring his cheeks  _ twist _ \- “of burning flesh.” 

Ra’s expression stays neutral, but the flash in his liquid green eyes shoots a spark of pleasure down his spine. 

“And what should it matter to me who Robin is?” He asks nonchalantly, kicking out his injured leg. Tim Wayne was Robin. Tim Wayne  _ was dead. _

Ra’s gave him an eyebrow raise. “You have an odd way of looking at things, Detective.”

“Aww, Ra’s,” he grins, mood changing abruptly (something that had been happening whenever JJ’s voice got a  _ little _ too loud). He knows Ra’s has already filed away the incident for the psychoanalysis he gets every week, and the smile gets a bit more painful. “I thought you  _ valued  _ my ‘odd’ way of thinking.” 

Ra’s stares at him for a couple more seconds, before he smiles, softly. Tim bares his teeth, but Timothy moves closer until he’s kneeling at his feet. The man’s fingers lightly grasp his jaw as he holds his breath, waiting for his next words, the next power play.

“You have learned much upon arriving at the League, Timothy,’ he murmurs, and Tim’s lip curls as he pulls his head back just enough that he can look Ra’s in the eye. 

“ _ You  _ have an odd way of putting things, Ra’s-” The fingers grow tighter from where they rest on his throat, and Tim’s sure there’s going to be bruises there tomorrow-

“And I will now endeavor to ask you once more what I had already before the Joker and his mistress corrupted your brilliant mind,” Ra’s continues as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “Will you not join the League, Timothy? You could have revenge, power, anything you wish for if you devote yourself to my cause. Why waste your time on these miscreants who replaced you hardly(/barely) a year into your death? Your name, your team, your home, your family; they have buried you, both literally and metaphorically.”

The offer is tempting, and Tim can see himself there, can see himself move on, let go of the Joker, let go of Batman, of Robin. The man in front of him offering everything he wants, he could reach out, could lean into the warm hand now palming his cheek, but. But.

“Oh, Ra’s,” he says with a gentle smile, the one that he’s been told makes him look almost human again. He grips the man’s wrist, and leans in; “They may have buried me, but I dug my way out of the grave. Gotham granted me a second chance, and I  _ will  _ save her and she  _ will  _ have justice.”

“And what then? When your mission is complete, and your purpose extinguished along with the Bat? Where then will it lead you?” The man demands, pulling him closer.

Tim lets him, then answers. “Once my mission is complete,” stops, waits for a second, because the look on Ra’s face is so  _ funny _ , so  _ serious _ , he’s close to cracking up- “I'll reunite with dear ol’ dad. In hell.”

This time the look of surprise on Ra’s face is too much for JJ to handle, and tears start rolling down his marred cheeks with how hard he’s laughing.

As the green slowly starts to creep up on his vision and Ra’s hands turn into a vice on his wrists, his voice getting dimmer as he shouts orders to the ninja for complete lockdown, Tim can’t help but push past the insanity, to look up at Ra’s with wide, fearful eyes. He sees the man’s expression soften, sees his mouth form words, but the only thing he can hear is the sound of water, of crashing waves-

The green finally takes over and the Lazarus takes the reins.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It surprised him, the nostalgia that curled up inside him as he looked out over the city. It also made him angry. Gotham hadn't changed a bit. The lights were still hazy from pollution, the raucous laughter and screams echoed out from her underbelly, the shouting on the docks muted by the sounds of waves crashing against shipments of drugs and _cargo_.
> 
> Ripping his gaze from the skyline and blinking the green from his vision, he turned back to the warehouse in which a _very _important meeting would soon be occurring. And it would be made all the more special by the debut of the city's new mask.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is the last finished chapter i have, tho the next one is briefly outlined. You all seem to kinda like it, so ill probs continue it, though it'll def be on the backburner till i finish my straytim fic. and as a note, there's an obvious timeskip between the first ch and this, but it's not really more than a few months. there probably wont be any more timeskips after this, but, idk

He'd missed Gotham. 

It surprised him, the nostalgia that curled up inside him as he looked out over the city. It also made him angry. Gotham hadn't changed a bit. The lights were still hazy from pollution, the raucous laughter and screams echoed out from her underbelly, the shouting on the docks muted by the sounds of waves crashing against shipments of drugs and _cargo_.

Ripping his gaze from the skyline and blinking the green from his vision, he turned back to the warehouse in which a _very _important meeting would soon be occurring. And it would be made all the more special by the debut of the city's new mask.__

__Tim let the crooked smile steal onto his face at the thought of what was finally in his grasp. After weeks and _weeks_ of planning, of _waiting,_ of lurking in the shadows and prying secrets out of low-levels, it was finally time to _act_._ _

__He quickly scaled the building, knives easily digging into the crumbling bricks. It took him only a minute to reach the high rise windows, but he ignored them in favor of hoisting himself up to the roof and making his way over to the open skylight that no one had bothered to check. Dropping to the floor of the rooftop, the voices easily carried up and Tim could hear the argument happening inside perfectly._ _

__"We agreed on forty." Black Mask's voice is easily identifiable, and angry, by the sound of it. It's not every day that the drug lord had to come down and confirm his authority to a bunch of thugs from New York, ones that couldn't just be taken out due to their positions in a gang that Mask _really_ hadn't wanted to piss off. Good thing Tim had no similar qualms. _ _

__"Why, that's preposterous!" Sameet Malkobi spluttered, sweat dripping off his forehead as his pudgy hands wrung a handkerchief between them. The man didn't look like someone who ran multiple operations in his father’s criminal empire, but hey, looks could be deceiving. It's how Batman survived for so long, after all. "There's no way the boss would allow this. Fifty or nothing."_ _

__Even with the mask, Tim knew Sionis's expression was twisted in fury. Quickly running a mental check to make sure no curious little birds would be stopping by, the boy clipped the muzzle over the lower half of his face (we wouldn't want any sudden episodes, now would we JJ?) and pulled his snow-white hood up._ _

__With deadly practiced ease, he leaped through the skylight, landing right in the middle of a bunch of trigger-happy gangsters who were decidedly _not_ in good moods._ _

__"You tell your daddy-" The drug lord jumped back, hands immediately reaching to his guns as his partner did the same. Malkobi already had his out and trained towards the newcomer._ _

__"Now, now boys," he teased, voice coming out strange through the built-in voice modulator. "Let's not be impatient."_ _

__Malkobi didn't like that, as he immediately began firing wildly even as Mask's backup rushed him. Tim grinned as he flipped in the air, throwing a smoke pellet to temporarily incapacitate Black Mask, and taking down two thugs with his landing. The next got a knife between the ribs, and the other three that lagged behind fell to the floor with a bullet in each of their useless brains._ _

__He could see the last two hesitate, and for a second Junior tries to claw up, but Tim tamps him down furiously. But that one second cost him, Malkobi's bullet finding home between the gap in his armor in his lower left leg._ _

__"Fuck," he hissed out, ignoring the pain blooming alongside the blood as he whipped around and shot, narrowly avoiding another bullet. The adrenaline made his heart race, and Tim suppressed the urge to throw his head and laugh as Malkobi stumbled back._ _

__He fired again, this time hitting his left arm, and the man dropped his weapon. The next one found his leg, and he dropped to his knees._ _

__Tim twisted around, using Black Mask’s momentum to shove him to the ground. The pained grunt to his side made him look up, fighting back the smile as he saw Malkobi heft his gun shakily, his other hand dangling uselessly by his side. He wasn’t trained with his right though, a glaring oversight which gives Tim the second he needs to heft Roman up, the tranquilizer laced in the smoke pellet doing a good job of making him pliant._ _

__Malkobi fell back, eyes widened in horror, dropping the weapon again as Tim’s snow white hood splattered with Roman Sionis’s blood._ _

__“Y-You-”_ _

__“Me,” Tim growled, tossing the prone body to the side and slamming the other man to the floor, his hand tight around his throat. “There is only one way you come out of this situation alive, Malkobi. You willing to listen?”_ _

__Malkobi nodded, but Tim only tightened his grip. “That means _not_ pressing your emergency beacon, Sameet.” He stiffened and Tim can only smile as he realizes that the gun pressed up to his sweaty forehead is a hair trigger away from blowing his brains out._ _

__He put his hands up by his head, slowly. Good, Tim knew he had common sense in there somewhere. “What do you want?”_ _

__Tim pulled out his knife, a sharp blade with an ornate handle that had been the only parting gift he’d accepted from Ra’s. The man’s breath quickened as Tim brought it up, tracing the tip lightly on his ruddy cheeks. “I want you to go back to your daddy and tell them who carved up your pretty face,” blood seeped out of the artificial cut he’d made above the man’s brow and he bucked, but Tim’s iron grip kept him glued to the dirty floor, “I want you to tell him that Black Mask killed your backup and turned traitor on your treaty,” another one, dragging across his cheeks making him gasp, “so you killed him in self-defence,” he finished, a last cut right over his lips, painting them a bright red._ _

__Malkobi coughed, more red seeping out over his lips as he spluttered, “That’ll start a gang war- it’ll send Gotham into chaos! Your city won’t be able to take it-”_ _

__“My city can take a whole lot more than you think, Malkobi,” Tim dragged the knife down to his neck, making the man shut up again. “All you have to do is bring Black Mask’s head back to your base and let me worry about the rest. You can do that, can’t you?”_ _

__At his tense nod, Tim got up, wiping the blood on his knife on the man’s lapels before standing up. “Pleasure doing business with you, Malkobi,” Tim said genially, and he pushes down the laugh at the man’s flinch._ _

__“Don’t think I can say the same,” he muttered, and this time Tim _does_ laugh, the muzzle turning the sound into a grating claws-on-blackboard screech. _ _

__The thud of Black Mask’s head falling cleanly off his neck reverberates through the warehouse, broken only by Malkobi’s heavy breathing. Tim grins, finally letting the sense of victory wash over his as he slides his knife back into its sheath. Now all he had to do was wait for the consequences of the night to be set in motion, and soon, the city would fall apart with only the White Duke left to pick up the pieces._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you liked it, pls tell me!!(and if there's smth weird in this chapter, cause i don't think I've read it over since November, please don't be afraid to let me know!)

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it, and pls, share your thoughts!


End file.
